A new day
by hiyak3
Summary: Even in a lonesome hospital room, there is always hope.


**Disclaimer**: Yami no Matsuei belong to Matsushita-sense, Hakusensha, et al. ^_^' Please don't sue.

**A/N**: 'tis just Hisoka centric fic done out of boredom. Erm… I have a new ff.net account, too! This is my new one (hiyak3), while my old one (Lucien Dawn) is still active… methinks, anyway! XP Sorry if the characters are OOC. More blabber at the end of this fic.

**A new day** by **hiyak3**

**I**

Someone once said that you could never appreciate a person for their true worth until they're gone.

A thought akin to that crossed Kurosaki Nagare's mind, however fleeting. He began to stir his cup of tea irately. He was thinking of his child again.          

His child, the monster. His child, the pathetic excuse for a human being. _His_ child.

Even if given a span of a million years, Nagare simply could not figure out where he had gone wrong with raising his child. He had been a good and responsible father figure to his son until the changes began. So in a way, the child was to blame.

The child wasn't different from any other child at first. He played, ate, studied, did everything normal children would, and was loved as the Kurosaki clan's heir. He was the clan's prize jewel, the jewel who would later on inherit their wealth and carry on the Kurosaki name. A child who was a rightful source of pride.

But one day, everything changed. The child began showing signs of what Nagare and his partner considered abnormality. The child would get headaches from time to time, especially at social events and gatherings. He would sometimes burst into tears when someone wasn't feeling well, even though the matter didn't concern him.

One day, the child went too far. It seemed as if his aberration had consumed him completely. The child had uncovered Kurosaki Nagare's most well guarded secret.

"Why did you kill her? Why did you kill my sister?"

The child had asked Nagare so plaintively. It was then Nagare decide that it was enough. His child was beyond cure and a demon had took hold of him, made him a monster. A monster that knew all and threatened to destroy the Kurosaki's reputation.

The child now meant a great deal of shame to the Kurosaki clan.

And so he was locked away and hidden from the public. He was beaten whenever he displayed uncanny abilities, in hopes of changing him back. But still, the child persisted. Even the child's own mother was disgusted with him. There was no more hope for this child, it seemed, only a bleak future.

**II**

The child had grown over time. He was no longer a measly child of six or seven. He was now sixteen, although he was still a child in a way.

He was still a child when he would cry during long and empty nights. He was still a child when he would contemplate bitter thoughts. He was still a child when he would wish his parents would love and care for him as they did before.

The child had suffered a lot before he came to this point, which was equally painful.

He had been abused, beaten, raped, tortured, cursed, and made to forget before being taken to the hospital. Every night, he writhed and tossed in his sheets, troubled by dark dreams.

The days weren't different. The child would lie in bed for hours and hours. Doctors would come in and out of his room throughout the day. It was perpetually cold in his room, even with the help of a heater. Nurses attended to him but flitted out the second they were done. Even the child's body wanted to give up. It was almost as if the world was waiting for him to plunge into his miserable death.

Yet everyday, the child kept a small but impossible hope in his heart. He kept on hoping that his parents would come to realize that they still loved him. He hoped that his parents would take him back. He would forgive then and then everything would be okay again. All he had to do was wait for the day when, looking out the window, he'd see his parents waving to him from the parking lot.

But that day never did come.

A single tear trickled down to the boy's chin.

His body was aching, his head throbbing. His time was, surely, a 'nearing. The child struggled to look out the window. All he saw were a patient or two departing, their welcoming families, and some people who looked as if they were visiting a loved one. No one had come to see him. The child now realized how obtuse he had been to ever believe in a fool's hope.

Another pang of pain coursed through his body. The child could see bright flashes – were those stars? – in front of him. He could feel his chest tightening and his breath hitching. Just then, when hope for lasting the night had dimmed, the door opened.

A nurse with an ever-present smile stepped into the room, carrying a tray of food that she knew the child would not eat and a clipboard, tucked in her arms.

She set the tray on the child's bedside table and took notes.

"How are we feeling today? Hmm…" The nurse beamed.

Not fine at all, thought the child bitterly. The nurse had asked intrusive questions for the past three years and yet she did not stop, as if persistence would gradually change the child's usual answer: silence.

The child turned his head ever so slightly and burrowed his face onto the soft comfort of his pillow. If he didn't show his face, the nurse wouldn't force him to eat. She wouldn't see his tear-streaked face. The nurse would leave after trying to persuade him to take a bite. The nurse would make a great show of impatience and sigh in frustration and yet he would slip off her mind until the time came for her to feed him again. And then everything would be repeated again and again until the child finally gives in to death's call. After that, no one would remember him anymore. The nurse who looked after him would eventually forget him, having other patients to tend to.

The child had calculated it all so perfectly that he based his actions on his theory alone. But now… he couldn't stand it anymore. He couldn't stand the sound of the door shutting. Shutting him from the world. He couldn't bear the click of the door opening. He never liked it when the door opened revealing the same nurse that had looked after him for nearly three years and not his parents. His parents had not even visited him during the long span of time he was confined.

"Are you hungry? You must be," the nurse asked, pouring the child a glass of water.

The child grunted to show his indifference whilst the nurse frowned. The boy could feel the nurse's emotion of impatience overpowering him. It was too much… 

Too much…

Slowly, the child closed his eyes surrendering to his fate. Whatever resistance he child had felt before was gone now.

The child thought of his family, especially his father, who didn't love him – whom he'd soon be leaving behind.

"I hate you…"

Kurosaki Nagare stood outside his child's hospital door, wondering if he should just turn back and forget it all. Forget his urge to see his son, the monster.

The monster he had so loathed was his child nonetheless. Nagare knew that this might very well be his last time to see his child.

He cleared his throat and bravely put hand to doorknob. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door carefully.

Nagare didn't expect what he saw. The room was bare. It smelled of disinfectant and there was a lone rose on a vase upon the bedside table. It was almost as if the room had just been laid out for the next patient.

But no, that was _his_ child's room. His eyes must be fooling him. Nagare rubbed his temple and cleared his head of all thoughts. A tap on the shoulder brought him back to earth.

A very flustered nurse met the man's stare.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Yes. Is this Hisoka Kurosaki's room?"

The name tasted tart through Nagare's lips. He hadn't said his child's name in a very long time.

"Ah… um… sorry sir, but you're going to have to…"

"He's my _son_, miss. Where is he?"

The nurse looked hard at the man's face, down the floor, and back again.

"Your son? He… he passed away a few hours ago. I'm so sorry sir. He's in the hospital morgue right now and um… sorry, sir. My condolences."

A semblance of a frown formed on Nagare's lips. For a second, he felt pain cutting through his chest though it was over nearly as soon as it had started.

"Well then."

The man turned to leave as he felt a rather newfound feeling of bitterness. Something he had never felt to a great extent before.

Someone once said that you could never appreciate a person for their true worth until they're gone – and, in most cases, it rang true.

**III**

The dawn slowly began to envelope the darkness that night had brought.

The child could feel strong emotions around him, wrapping him in a confused mix of passion.

The voices around him dropped a notch until eventually falling silent.

"He's coming to," said a voice.

The room looked unfamiliar to the child. It was unlike his hospital room in many ways. The room was a bustling hub of activity.

The child managed to utter a question.

"Where is this?"

A man in a suit smiled at him.

"You're in…" the man stopped to look at the sun, slowly rising from the window. "Meifu."

The child was far too weak to ask anything more. Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore his spinning head and the emotions that were not his consuming him. 

_And yet…_

Promises of a new life began to unfold. Up above, the sun was shining. A new day in Meifu had come.

-- _fini_

**A/N**: Sooo…? Did I do so very bad that you stopped reading halfway through the story and scrolled down to immediately flame me? I hope not. *dies* I'm sorry if the characters were OOC, especially Nagare. I'm a tad iffy about this, but review, please! ^_^

Btw, if you're wondering about the title, it's supposed to accent the hope underlying Hisoka's um… _situation_. *kicks self* HEY GUESS WHAT THERE'S NO SUCH WORD AS 'HISOKA'S' SO I RIGHT CLICK AND OUT APPEARS 'HOOKAH'S'! :D


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